


The Gypsy Prince

by Jacie



Category: NCIS
Genre: Baltimore, Cats, Dinner, First Time, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Psychic Abilities, happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 14:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13215945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacie/pseuds/Jacie
Summary: Abby is determined to help Gibbs find happiness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutsycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutsycat/gifts).



> A stocking stuffer (#17 - 2017) for Cutsycat, part of the NCIS Happy Holidays Challenge on LJ.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. I went with grown cats rather than kittens, but I hope it's still okay.

The snow swirled around as the temperatures dropped. Abby tugged at Gibbs’ arm as she walked in her tall-heeled boots. “Don’t you just love the holidays?”

With his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, Gibbs just grunted.

Abby playfully bumped into him, still holding onto his arm. “Come on, Gibbs. You need to find something that makes you happy.”

“Building my boat in my basement makes me happy.”

“No. No, it doesn’t. That merely keeps your hands and mind occupied for a few hours at a time, but it doesn’t make you happy.”

“Bourbon.”

Abby laughed. “Your bourbon may mellow you out a bit, but it’s not happiness in a bottle. Alcohol is a depressant, you should know that.”

“Abby, I’m happy enough. You make me happy, okay?”

A smile lit her face. “Aw, that’s so sweet. But I have a special surprise for you and I won’t take no for an answer.”

Abby had stopped in front of a shop. Gibbs looked up at the sign and shook his head and tried to pull away. “No.”

“Come on. It will be fun! And I’m buying. Consider this a Christmas present from me.”

“You know I don’t believe in psychics.”

“Okay, pretend this is a Christmas present _for_ me.” Making her best puppy dog eyes, she pouted and begged, “Please? It’s Christmas!”

Throwing his hands in the air. “Technically, it’s Christmas Eve. And I only agreed to lunch and a couple shops.”

“True. We had a great lunch and this is a shop. Now, we’re going in.”

As Abby had said, it was a shop, full of candles, tarot cards, dream analysis books, spell books, astrology books, cloaks, scarves, rings, lockets, earrings and pendants, essential oils and incense, among other things. Abby’s eyes wandered across the jewelry case, full of rings and earrings.

“Maybe you should get your ear pierced,” she ventured.

“I have no desire to look like a pirate.”

“Earrings can be very sexy. But you’re perfectly sexy without one.”

Abby led him further through the store. Gibbs winced when a black cat crossed his path. 

“Black cats have a bad rap that is completely untrue. Cats of any color are good luck.”

“I’ve never been terribly fond of cats.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps you’ve just never met the right one.”

They soon came to a door that was slightly ajar and knocked softly. When a voice beckoned for them to enter, Abby led the way, followed by Gibbs and the black cat.

An older woman dressed like a gypsy sat at a table shuffling through a deck of cards that she set aside. “Abby, dear, it’s so good to see you again. And this must be Gibbs.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

Abby nodded vigorously. “And I doubt I can drag him here more than once, so we have to make this visit count. And he’s a little on edge because the black cat just crossed his path.”

“Black cats are wonderful animals. That is Thorin, who is a wise and noble companion. Perhaps you should consider a cat as a pet.” The older woman carefully lit three candles, each part of a heat diffuser on a cabinet behind the table.

Gibbs caught a whiff. “Cedar,” he said.

“Very good, Mr. Gibbs,” the older woman said. “It is cedarwood. Abby mentioned you liked the smell of wood. The others are sandalwood and neroli oil. Some of Abby’s favorites. And I tossed in a pinch of catnip.”

“For me or the cat?”

“Perhaps you will be friends one day, you and a cat. The world is full of possibilities. Abby chose scents that she thought would make you more comfortable.”

“I like the feel of wood.”

“She said you built boats.”

“Yeah. Did she tell you about the bourbon, too?”

The older woman smiled and gestured toward an open chair. “Please, have a seat. My name is Claire.”

Gibbs chuckled as he sat down. “Is your last name _Voyant_?”

“I know you’re a skeptic. Claire Madison, or Madam Madison, if you prefer. I was named Claire after my great grandmother. May I see your hand?”

Abby looked at Gibbs and nodded to Claire. “She’s told me all kinds of things that have come true. It’s cool Gibbs. You may even start believing in the supernatural.”

“I doubt that,” he said as he held out his hand as if he was daring Claire to take it. The smells wafting from the diffusers made Gibbs feel lightheaded. He was already sure that whatever was in them made people susceptible of believing all sorts of stupid things.

“I see you have a strong personality,” she began.

Gibbs huffed in obvious disbelief.

“There is pain in your life. You need to let yourself love again, and then you will find happiness.”

The black cat rubbed against his leg. Gibbs looked down at it. “Happiness is overrated.”

“Don’t let Thorin bother you. He’s a rather good judge of character, so I can see you are a good man beyond the hard image you project.”

“I’m not projecting anything, Lady.”

Turning to Abby, Claire smiled. “Abby, dear, he is all you said! I am so intrigued. You must tell me how it all turns out.”

“How what all turns out?” Gibbs asked.

“You should keep your eyes open, Mr. Gibbs,” Claire said. “Sometimes roses are blooming just under your nose and you’re too busy to notice.”

“So you want me to what? Stop and smell the roses?”

“Slow down and see what is all around you.”

“I rather stop and smell the coffee.”

“Pay attention to what goes on around you. You may be pleasantly surprised one day.”

Gibbs couldn’t hide his disdain. “I’m an investigator. I observe people, places and things for a living. You want to take a guess at what I’m thinking right now?”

“You think I’m full of crap. It’s written all over your face. You think all I do is bullshit people all day long. I don’t mind. I’m secure in knowing my gifts are real.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said as he pushed the chair back and stood up.

“Someone very special is about to come into your life,” Claire said with a smile. “This is the one. And I mean The One for you. Pay attention.”

“I already found The One for me. She was murdered.”

“Two hearts.”

“What?”

“You lost two. I can feel it.”

“Abby told you.”

Abby shook her head. “No, Gibbs, I wouldn’t.”

“I told you,” said Claire, “I don’t mind if you don’t believe. All I’m telling you is to pay attention. The signs will be there.”

“I don’t believe in psychics and I don’t believe in signs either.”

“I know,” she said with a playful smile. “But I think you are intrigued. You can pretend not to care about anything if you want, but I can see the truth about you.”

“I care about my job.”

“I know you do. And it is on your job that you need to pay special attention. Watch your step.”

“Are you telling me I’m in danger?”

“You’re only in danger of losing something special, because you’re too hardnosed to accept what is right in front of your face.”

“As long as it doesn’t kill me, I’m good.”

“I’m going to do something for you,” Claire said. She handed him an envelope. “Write on that. Whatever you like. Just something in your handwriting that you will recognize. Address it to yourself if you like.”

Grabbing the envelope, Gibbs jotted his name on the front and pushed it back across the table.

Claire pushed the envelope back. She took a page of note paper and wrote on it, then folded it in half, then in thirds and handed it to Gibbs. “I want you to write something on the outer edge of this letter, then put it into the envelope and seal it. You keep that. Date it six months from today.”

“June twenty-fourth,” he said as he scribbled down the date.

“On that date, you may open it. Not before. Put it in a safe place and don’t tell anyone.”

“Why?” asked Gibbs as he sealed the note inside the envelope.

“Because you don’t believe. I’ve put my prediction for you into the envelope. You can open it in six months and see if it has come true.”

“Fine. I’m sure this is a great parlor trick.”

“Madam Madison is for real,” said Abby. “And I have a request. I want to be there when you open it. I want to see what it says, and I want to see your expression when it comes true.”

“It is no parlor trick,” Claire confirmed. “You have written on both the letter and the envelope. You sealed the envelope yourself. I cannot change what is sealed inside any more than you can. You see, it also has my handwriting. You cannot match my handwriting and I cannot match yours. It will be the same in six months as it is today.”

“Except,” said Abby, “you’ll see that whatever prediction she made for you will have come true.”

Gibbs, Abby and Stan shared a Christmas dinner with Ducky and his mother. Their house was beautiful and stately with a dining room that seemed empty with just the five of them there to celebrate. 

Gerald Jackson stopped by while they were having dessert and accepted a piece of pie. 

“There is plenty of dinner left,” said Ducky.

“No, thank you, Doc. I had dinner with my sister and her family, but wanted to stop by on my way home, just to wish you a Merry Christmas. And to thank you for the new jacket. It fits perfectly.”

“And likewise, I thank you for the gloves and slippers. My old ones were worn out and well deserving of retirement.”

Gerald chuckled. “Yeah, I saw you were getting a hole in your gloves and thought you could use a new pair.”

“Thoughtful and useful are the best gifts, are they not?” asked Ducky as he refilled Gibbs’ coffee cup.

Abby excitedly asked, “You’ll never guess what I got Gibbs for Christmas! Well, it’s sort of a future gift, but I got him happiness!”

Ducky laughed and smiled. “If only there were a shop where people could buy happiness.”

“There is. Sort of,” Abby began, before Gibbs interrupted her.

“She took me to a psychic!” said Gibbs.

“Madam Madison is more than just a psychic.”

“Drug dealer? I was getting lightheaded from whatever she had burning in her _office_.”

Abby took a drink of wine, and swirled the liquid in the bottom of the glass as he stared into it. “Essential oils, mostly.” Looking up, she continued, “She’s also sort of a witch. Not a bad witch, though. She’s a good witch. I asked her to give you happiness, and she did her thing. I just told you she was going to read your palm because I knew you’d balk at a spell.”

“She what?” Gibbs asked.

Stan had tears in his eyes from his laughter. “Abby, I can’t believe you took Gibbs to a psychic and didn’t invite me along. I would have loved to have seen that. Did you get a picture?”

“No pictures!” Gibbs growled.

Abby bit her lower lip, then admitted, “There might be a picture or two. Come on Gibbs. No one would ever believe I got you in there!” Flipping through her cell phone, she got up from her seat and showed the image to Stan, while Gerald and Ducky crowded close enough to get a glimpse. Gibbs reached for one of the bottles of wine, filled a glass and guzzled it quickly.

“Nice snaps,” said Stan. “I dig the black cat.”

“That’s Thorin,” said Abby. “He’s part ambiance, part wise old owl. He really liked Gibbs, which is a good thing. He is a great judge of character.”

Reaching down, Gibbs brushed the lower part of his pant leg. “Stupid thing shed all over my pants.”

“He’s not stupid. He’s like the king of all gypsy cats. He’s really amazing. I think he’s psychic himself. And Claire said if he rubs against a client’s legs, it helps the magic work.”

“Then I should be feeling the mojo right now.”

Abby pointed a finger at his face, speaking determinedly, “You are going to find happiness this year whether you like it or not, Mister. And if you turn your back on it, it will be your own fault.”

“I can’t wait to see this happiness voodoo happen,” said Stan. “I will be watching out in the field.”


	2. Chapter 2

After Christmas, work resumed as normal. Gibbs was hyper-alert for the next few weeks, as if he was expecting happiness to jump out of a closet and attack him outright. He made Stan open all the closets until spring. Stan shrugged it off and took it in stride, only occasionally teasing Gibbs.

Peeking into one closest, he called across the room, “You gotta see this, Boss.”

“Dead body?”

“No, it’s a whole shitload of happiness with your name on it!”

“Shut the fuck up about that!” Gibbs shouted as he left the room.

In March they had company on a crime scene. A brown tabby seemed to take a particular interest in following Gibbs around. 

“New friend?” Stan asked. Bending down, he read the tag attached to the cat’s collar. “ _The Gypsy Prince_. I wonder if he friends call him Gypsy or Prince.”

“Maybe they go with ‘The’,” suggested Gibbs. “Is there a phone number or owner’s name?”

“He’s in the house, Gibbs. Chances are, he belonged to the deceased staff sergeant.”

“Catch him and take his ass to a shelter.”

“Make Abby happy. Take him home.”

“What?”

“Abby is not going to let this happiness thing go. You know that. Give it up. Take the cat, at least while we search for relatives who might take it. Tell her you’re happy. She’ll stop asking you if you’re happy yet.”

Stan did have a point. Abby kept bouncing around him asking if he’d found happiness yet. “Maybe the name on the collar should have been _Happiness_.”

“I sure wouldn’t tell her it says _The Gypsy Prince_.”

“Why not?”

“Come on, Gibbs. She took you to a gypsy psychic. If you told her the cat’s name is _The Gypsy Prince_ she’ll be floating so high we’d never get her back to earth. We need her head in the game.”

“Yeah, got it.” 

Gibbs followed a blood trail from where the body had been stabbed, through the kitchen and out the back door. Once he reached the grass, he had trouble spotting any more blood. Squatting close to the ground, he searched through the thick, green blades. The brown tabby followed him, and sat down next to him.

“If you’re some sort of magical gypsy cat, now would be a good time to point me toward a clue.” When the cat only stared back at him, Gibbs scratched his head and adjusted his NCIS cap. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

As Gibbs stood up, The Gypsy Prince also stood, then he stretched and followed after Gibbs as he traversed the yard. At one point, the cat stopped and sat down, then began meowing.

Gibbs stopped and looked back at the cat. “What?”

The cat meowed, then disappeared behind an overgrown bush. Gibbs took out his flashlight and flipped it on, searching into the greenery. When he saw the cat, it was sitting next to a bloody knife. “I’ll be damned,” Gibbs said softly. Turning back toward the house, he yelled, “Stan, evidence bag!”

Gibbs pushed his way into the brush and snapped a couple pictures before grabbing the knife with a gloved hand, and retrieving it. Stan held open the evidence bag as Gibbs placed the knife inside. At that moment, the cat walked out from the bush and rubbed against Gibbs’ leg.

“Don’t tell me,” said Stan. “The cat found it?”

“Shut up. You do not tell Abby!”

“Yeah, right.”

The cat didn’t seem to require any sort of an invitation. As Gibbs and Stan were putting their equipment back into the MCRT truck, the cat hopped in and made himself at home.

“He can be our mascot,” Stan said. “Kids will love him, as long as he’s not too skittish.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “I guess we better stop somewhere and buy Prince Fuzzy Britches some cat food.”

“New nickname already? You’re never getting rid of him. Maybe he will bring you happiness.”

“Not likely.”

“And I took the liberty. I know we’re not supposed to, but it seemed like I should.”

“What did you do?”

“Since we were taking the cat, I packed up his things.”

“His things? The cat has things? He has like a little kitty suitcase?”

“I packed up his food, bowls, some toys and his litter box. Don’t worry, I dumped the old litter and just brought the bag of fresh litter so you can fill it when we get him back to your house.”

“My house?”

“You’re taking this cat. Remember? So you can tell Abby you’ve found your happiness. Who knows, it may actually make you happy to have a living thing to come home to. And cats don’t need much attention. Just put out some food and water, and clean out the litter pan. This little Prince will be fine being home alone for hours.”

Gibbs just grunted as he drove back toward the office.

He quickly found that Prince had no intention of being left alone in a house all day. The cat always followed him out the door to his truck. As soon as Gibbs opened the door, the cat slipped in and jumped onto the passenger seat. Once he got to the office, the cat would follow him inside, through security and up to his desk. People stared and sometimes laughed. 

Abby was ecstatic when she was introduced to Prince, even offering to watch him whenever Gibbs had meetings or had to leave the building. Prince seemed to prefer Gibbs’ company and continued to follow him around in the building and out in the field. The only room he tended to not enter was interrogation. Even Gibbs had to admit Prince could be a distraction while questioning suspects. The cat was perfectly satisfied to enter the observation room with Stan, and would sit on a shelf where he could watch Gibbs in action. Stan would stand beside the cat, rubbing his chin on occasion.

One day, Tom Morrow invited Gibbs up to his office to discuss the cat situation, a meeting which Prince decided to join. The director was won over. He reached across the table to pet Prince’s head and the cat closed his eyes and purred so loudly that it made the director smile.

“He did lead me to the murder weapon, a knife, at the crime scene, Sir. It’s the evidence we needed to close the case. Maybe he was a bloodhound in his past life.”

“Gibbs, I’m surprised at you. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that Ms. Sciuto believes in the occult and reincarnation, but I always figured you were more of a realist.”

Leaning back in his chair, Gibbs smiled. “The cat isn’t bothering anything or anybody. I’m not bringing it. He jumps in my truck in the morning, and follows me around work.”

“It’s not regulation.”

“I’m not sure how to get rid of him.”

“I understand that the next of kin didn’t want the cat.”

“Yeah, his son in Texas; said his kids are allergic.”

“Stan said he’s your team’s mascot. I will allow his presence as long as he doesn’t distract you, or anyone else, from getting the job done. He seems to be good for morale; puts a smile on peoples’ faces.”

“If you want me to lock him in a cage all day so he doesn’t bother me, just say the word,” said Gibbs as he stood up.

“I will let you know. For now, he can stay. He’s sort of a therapy cat.”

“Should I get him a vest?”

“He has nine lives. I’m sure he can manage to dodge a bullet or two. But if you want to get him a service animal vest, it’s up to you. And him.”

Prince purred and head butted the table, then jumped down and trotted after Gibbs, following him out the door.

Director Morrow watched the cat go, and simply smiled and shook his head. He’d never seen a cat just trail after an agent like that. Stan took it upon himself to put a makeshift litter box underneath the empty desk closest to Gibbs’. It was just a cardboard box lined with a plastic trash liner, then covered with ripped up newspapers. The following day, Stan brought in a brand new plastic litter pan, along with litter and a scoop. He kept the office box clean, as he assumed Gibbs was cleaning the one at the house.

As the days went by, Prince would follow Stan and Gibbs out to the MCRT truck. Stan soon bought a fuzzy cat cave and found a way to secure it with a seatbelt so that it sat on the seat between Gibbs and Stan. Prince sniffed at it once and climbed right in. 

At each crime scene, the cat seemed to be quite adept at finding clues. Not that Gibbs and Stan wouldn’t have eventually discovered the clues themselves, but Prince seemed to delight in finding things, then sitting near them and meowing until the men came over to investigate his find.

When they returned to the office one day, they’d found that a cat bed appeared underneath Gibbs’ desk. Since it was covered with ghosts and skeletons, Gibbs was sure it was a gift from Abby. On other days, they returned to find cat treats left in the food dish under Gibbs’ desk, or sometimes on top of the desk in an unused corner.

In late April, Stan put in a request to become an agent afloat. “I just need a break,” he’d said.

“From what? Solving crimes?” asked Gibbs.

“I want to travel while I’m still single. Maybe I’ll meet the love of my life overseas. The possibilities are endless.”

“There are women in DC,” Gibbs countered.

“I’m just tired of all the murders. I’ve seen enough dead bodies.”

“Crime happens. Someone has to solve murders and bring closure to the families.”

“You’ll find someone else for your team. You always do, right? MCRT is a stepping stone to any assignment you want.”

“Yeah, it is. And you want to be an agent afloat?”

“Just for a couple years. Then I’ll see. I can stick around until you get a replacement hired.”

“No, if you want to go agent afloating, then go on and do it. We have some cases I can work solo.”

“You need someone to watch your six,” said Stan as he began packing up his belongings.

Gibbs nodded to Prince. “I got the cat.”

Stan stepped over and gave Prince a pat to the head and a rub under his chin. “I meant someone who carries a gun.”

Gibbs petted the cat and smiled. “We’re going to be okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

On his own again, Gibbs poured through old cold cases, and helped other teams when needed. One day, he was given the opportunity to go undercover. He borrowed plates off of a stolen car they’d impounded and put them on his truck. Prince still insisted on accompanying him into the field and the cat knew his truck. He’d even added a fuzzy cat cave buckled to the passenger seat, similar to the one Stan had fixed up in the MCRT truck. 

Gibbs set a satchel on the floorboards and started the truck up. “We’re going up to Baltimore to catch some dirtbags. You need to stay in the truck. Deal?”

Prince looked up at him and head-butted Gibbs’ hand.

After he parked the truck in Baltimore, Gibbs flipped over a bowl that was on the floor and filled it with dry food from a plastic container he had brought for the trip. “If you’re good, I’ll share my steak with you tonight. You like it rare, right?”

Prince meowed and purred loudly. Gibbs was pretty sure the cat had learned the word ‘steak’ by now.

Gibbs cracked the windows. “Remember our deal. You stay in the truck.” With that said, he left to find his mark. 

Prince had other ideas.

Gibbs had patience. He picked a good spot on the street to wait, and clutched the satchel to his chest. He wanted to look like a shifty, untrusting homeless person. From time to time he would mutter to himself. If people thought he was nuts, they’d be more likely to leave him alone.

He knew the local detectives were watching them. It was part of his plan. The mark was distrustful of him, but if he was grabbed by the cops, he’d be more believable to this particular dirtbag. He shook his head when he saw the two detectives blatantly walking toward them.

“Jeez,” he muttered before taking off running. At least it was the athletic looking one who came after him. He thought he might have trouble running slow enough for the suited cop to catch up to him. “Who can run in those loafers?”

Less than a minute later, Gibbs was tackled in a vacant lot. Rolling over, he punched the detective who immediately pulled a gun and pointed it at Gibbs’ face. 

“I said freeze, dirtbag!”

Gibbs froze, opening his hands to show he didn’t have a weapon. He kept his hands stretched out and still. Then Prince wandered over and jumped onto his chest. After a moment, he stood on his hind legs and head-butted the muzzle of the gun pointed at him.

The detective grabbed the cat by the scruff of his neck and held him up. “Is this your guardian angel or something?”

“He is a good distraction,” said Gibbs with a smirk. “If I had a gun, you’d be dead. You took your eyes off of me just long enough that I could have made it count.”

The detective immediately dropped Prince and held his gun steady on Gibbs. “Nice try.”

Prince followed as the detective handcuffed Gibbs and led him back to the street to await a transportation vehicle. Prince hopped in along with Gibbs and his informant, one Joey Peanuts.

Joey stared at the cat. “Stupid animal. You had a choice. They don’t make handcuffs for kitty cats. You could have been scot-free, and yet here you sit with us.”

“Maybe I trained him to get me out of jail time.”

“That would be some parlor trick.”

“Oh, it’s no trick. He’s a smart cat.”

Prince seemed to take an immediate liking to the detective, who had introduced himself as Tony DiNozzo, and handed Gibbs a business card up in the squad room. After trying, and failing, to catch and remove the cat, the detectives gave up and let him roam their squad room freely, with the understanding that if he made a mess, Gibbs would clean it up. 

He’d convinced Detective DiNozzo to take the cat outside once.

“Without a leash? What if he runs off?”

“That would solve your problem, right? You’d be rid of the cat if he’s gone,” suggested Gibbs. “It won’t work though. He’s been following me around for weeks.”

In the end, Tony took the cat outside and was surprised that he immediately disappeared behind a bush for a couple minutes, then reappeared and rubbed against Tony’s leg. When he returned to the building, the cat followed him inside, and up the stairs back to the squad room.

“Interesting cat,” he told Gibbs.

“He is one of a kind.”

Tony scratched the cat’s head. “He reminds me of me. Handsome, smart and killer green eyes.”

“Are you looking to adopt a pet?” Gibbs asked as he refilled his coffee cup.

“No. No way. You’re not dumping this fuzzy minion on me.”

“He’s not a minion, DiNozzo. He’s a prince.”

After they closed the case, Tony realized his partner was dirty. “It’s time I look for a new job,” he confided in Gibbs. “Danny’s done a lot for me. I can’t turn him in. But I can’t work with him anymore either.”

“You can come work for me, if you want to. I have an opening at NCIS. My last guy decided to go agent afloating and travel the world.”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

In May, Tony came to visit Gibbs at NCIS and was hired on the spot. Since Tony wanted to start immediately, Gibbs offered to let him stay at his house. Tony gave a two-weeks notice to the Baltimore PD. 

The following weekend, Gibbs and Prince drove up to the address Tony had given, surprised that it was a motel. It didn’t take long to load his boxes into the pickup truck. There was a television, a few books, lots of DVDs, a box of photos, another of food and quite a bit of clothing. It all fit in the back of the truck, which Gibbs covered with a tarp and strapped down.

Tony raised an eyebrow when he saw Prince in his cat cave buckled into the middle of the bench seat. “Does he go everywhere with you? How did you train him not to run away?”

“I didn’t. He belonged to a staff sergeant who was killed. He jumped into my work truck when I was investigating the scene and has been following me around ever since.”

“Interesting.”

“Why do you live in a motel?”

“I was engaged and she left me standing at the altar. Since we lived together, I didn’t want to stay. I can go to another motel if you want me to. I’m probably not the best company.”

“Tony, I have plenty of room. You’re welcomed to stay as long as you like.”

When they arrived at Gibbs’ house, Tony stood out front and took a long look at it. “It’s nice,” he finally announced.

“Thanks,” replied Gibbs as he pulled back the tarp and started carrying in boxes. 

Once they were inside, Gibbs led the way up the stairs and pointed to a room. “That’s the bedroom. I’ll find you some sheets.”

“Okay,” said Tony as he began opening his suitcases. When he went to the closet, he found there were already clothes in it. “Keep your old stuff in here?”

“I sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, this is _your_ bedroom. Come on, Gibbs. I’m not going to kick you out of your own bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

“I don’t sleep here. I don’t like sleeping up here alone.”

“Oh yeah, the divorce. You mentioned that. First wife?”

“Fourth. One died, the others divorced.”

“Wow. Maybe I dodged a bullet.”

“How’s that?”

“When Wendy left me at the altar. I can’t imagine going through a divorce. How do you get over that?”

“Bourbon.”

That night, the pair sat on the couch, eating delivery pizza and drinking beer while the watched _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid_ on the television. Tony eyed his business card on the table, the one he’d given Gibbs in Baltimore. 

Opening his wallet, he pulled out a newer, NCIS business card and tossed it on top of the old one. “You might as well have a current one. You won’t reach me at that old number.”

“Wasn’t going to. I know how to reach you,” said Gibbs.

“This is nice,” said Tony. “A couple of bachelors kicking back and watching a good movie.” 

“I’m pretty sure Prince is a bachelor,” Gibbs said before taking another bite of pizza.

Tony scratched the cat’s head and listened to him purr. “We’re like the three amigos. That’s a movie, too. Have you seen it?”

“Don’t think so.”

“It stars Steve Martin, Martin Short and Chevy Chase. It’s sort of western like. They ride horses and sing around a campfire. We’ll have to watch it sometime.”

After the movie ended, Gibbs went to the basement, only to have Prince and Tony follow him down there.

Tony sipped bourbon and watched Gibbs work for a while before Gibbs handed him a piece of sandpaper, and said, “With the grain.”

A couple hours later, they decided to go to bed. Prince followed Tony upstairs and slept on the second pillow.

Downstairs on the couch, Gibbs muttered, “Damn cat.”


	4. Chapter 4

As the weeks came and went, Tony discovered Prince’s penchant for locating clues and summoning the agents with his plaintive meows. Tony would rub him until he purred and gave him treats as a reward. When Gibbs glared at him, he said, “The cat does a good job. He deserves a reward.”

“What about you, DiNozzo? Are you doing a good job.”

“I guess.”

“Do you think you deserve a reward?”

Tony smiled then let it fade. “A job well done is a reward in itself, of course.”

“Of course.”

To repay his hospitality, Tony invited Gibbs out to dinner at least once a week. They’d visit a bar afterwards. Tony watched a lot of women flirt with Gibbs and try to slip him their phone numbers. He never took them.

“Don’t tell me you’re not going to date until your divorce is final.”

Gibbs laughed, then drained his glass and ordered a refill. “Not exactly. It’s Abby.”

Tony’s eyes grew wide. “You and Abby?”

“No. NO! She took me to this psychic a few months ago. It’s crazy, but she’s been trying to set me up on dates ever since that. I don’t need another wife.”

“So you’re not dating because Abby wants you to be happy, and you don’t want to let her win? Is that about it?”

Tony made it sounds so silly. “Yeah, I guess. No, I just don’t want another wife. I’m sure as hell not dating anyone who slips me their phone number at a bar.”

Tony excused himself to use the restroom. When he returned, Gibbs continued. “I’m happy just the way I am. With my boat and my bourbon. There’s nothing wrong with my life. I am a happy person.”

“I believe you.”

Two nights later, Gibbs and Tony were sitting on the couch again, this time eating Chinese takeout while watching _The Treasure of the Sierra Madre_.

“Did you know,” Tony said, pointing at the screen with his chopsticks, “that is Walter Huston, the father of John Huston who directed. Anjelica Huston is John’s daughter. Those three all won academy awards, different years of course. But they’re the only family that has academy award winners from three different generations.”

“Fascinating,” Gibbs said flatly.

“That is the catchphrase of Mr. Spock from Star Trek fame, although not used as often as _‘live long and prosper’_.”

After they ate, Tony leaned his head against Gibbs’ shoulder. They’d spent enough time together that it didn’t bother either of them to have physical contact. 

Tony took a deep breath, then said. “Want to play a game?”

“Not really.”

“It will be fun. I think.” Tony began digging into his pockets and pulled out several business cards. “Hear me out, okay? Some of the women at the bar found you very attractive.”

“No.”

“I’m not done yet, so you’re being rude. Just to prove Abby wrong, I think you should pick one, go out, kiss her, whatever, and when there is no spark, you can tell Abby that you tried. You can tell her it isn’t in the cards. Get it?”

“Why?”

“Right now she thinks you’re being an ass because you are deliberately not dating anyone. So pick one and get it over with.”

“How about we let Prince pick one. He’s good and finding clues, I’ve come to trust his opinion.”

“And if he doesn’t pick a card?”

“Then I’m off the hook and you and Abby can stop pestering me. I’m happy. Trust me. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be in a relationship.”

“Fine.” Tony tapped the table. “Okay, Prince, you have to choose a date for Gibbs. Pick a card, any card.”

Prince jumped up on the coffee table and sniffed at the cards that Tony was pointing out. Tony tapped each one, and Prince walked to each one and sniffed at them one by one.

“Go on, pick one.”

Prince meandered around the table and looked at the cards, sniffed at them again and poked at some with a paw. After a few minutes, he walked around the tabletop three times and then put his paw on one specific business card.

“Fine. I guess I have a date,” Gibbs said, rubbing his hands over his face. “Who is the lucky lady?”

Reaching over, Tony picked up the card and flipped it over and laughed aloud. “Me. It’s my NCIS business card that I gave you. Come on, Prince. Pick a woman this time.”

“Nope,” said Gibbs with a chuckle. “I only agreed to give this one shot and he picked you. So that’s the choice. I guess you and I have a date to go on.”

“You’re not serious,” said Tony as he gathered the other cards into a single stack.

“Very. If I can’t go with my gut, I’m happy to go with Prince’s. He picked. If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. You explain it to Abby.”

On Friday night, Gibbs dressed up in a suit and waited for Tony in the living room. Tony was stunned when he came downstairs. “Wow, Gibbs. You clean up nice. Who knew you had it in you?”

“I had it in me enough that I was able to catch four wives. I do have some talent in the romance department.”

“The flower is a nice touch,” Tony said, eyeing the rose pinned to Gibbs’ suit.

“Glad you like it. I got you one, too.”

The pair went to a nice restaurant, then Gibbs even took Tony to a gay bar so they could dance together without being stared at.

When they arrived back at Gibbs’ house, Tony refused to go inside the house until Gibbs kissed him. With the stars twinkling overhead and a bright moon shining down, Gibbs leaned in for a quick kiss, only to have Tony wrap his arms around him and deepen the kiss. They were both breathless when they pulled away.

“Not bad, Gibbs,” said Tony. “I can see that you do have enough talent and charms to seduce a woman. Or even a man. I’d go out with you again.”

“You would? Have you given up on the women of the world, too?”

Tony opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m bi, really. I don’t care if someone is male or female. You’re a sexy man, and a good kisser. So yeah, I’d date you again,” he said as he trailed off to the kitchen to retrieve a couple bottles of beer.

Gibbs sat on the couch and started laughing. “We have got to get Abby over here. We can tell her that we’re dating, so she can stop trying to set me up with women. She failed.”

“Are you sure she was trying to set you up?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Because if she was only out to see you happy, she’s going to claim a win if you’re happy with me.”

“Trust me,” said Gibbs. “When we tell her we’re a couple, her jaw is going to drop.”

The next day, Tony invited Abby over for dinner. “Steaks from the fireplace. You won’t find a better one.”

Abby sat on the couch and watched Gibbs cook the steaks, grilled squash and a simmer a pot of beans, while Tony was in the kitchen, preparing a salad. Tony set the table, and poured a glass of wine for each place setting.

“We have something to tell you,” Tony said with a smile. He had taken the pot of beans into the kitchen and returned with the beans in a more presentable dish, which he passed to Abby.

Abby was beaming. “I don’t know what you did, Gibbs, but you’re practically glowing. My holiday wish came true. You are honestly and genuinely happy. I can tell.”

“Yes, I am. And I didn’t need a woman to do it,” said Gibbs as he portioned out the steak and squash. 

“All I wanted was for you to be happy,” she said. “I don’t really care what happened. Personally, I think it was Prince coming into your life,” she said as she gave the brown tabby a pat to the head.

“I thought about what you and Claire said and I decided to leave my fate to the cards. Tony collected cards from several women and we decided to let Prince choose the lucky lady.”

“And he picked a winner?” Abby asked excitedly.

“Yes, he did,” Gibbs replied. “Out of all the cards on the table, he chose this one,” he said as he dropped the card in front of Abby.

Picking up the card, she read the name. “This is Tony’s card.”

“Yes, it is. We went on a date and decided we’re meant to be together. Thank you, Abby. Without you, this never would have happened,” said Gibbs as he kissed Abby’s temple and took Tony’s card back. “Keepsake.” 

“You do know what day this is, right?”

“Saturday?”

“It’s June 24th. I thought you invited me over to open the envelope Claire gave you.”

Gibbs frowned.

“You forgot all about it, didn’t you? No matter. The stars have aligned to bring me here, so find the envelope. I’m dying to see what she said.”

“What difference does it make?”

“If anything in that note came true in the last six months, you have to believe. So if there is any mention about a business card, or your cat, Prince, or you happily dating Tony, you have to believe.”

“Yeah, right.” 

Gibbs had to think back to where he had stashed the envelope. 

Abby sipped at her wineglass, then pointed at Prince. “I’ll bet the cat could find it, if you asked him nicely.”

“I remember where it is,” he said as he went upstairs. 

It was attached to his sock and underwear drawer, taped up to the back. He knew if Abby were going to come snooping, looking for the envelope, she’d look in the basement first. No woman would go rummaging through a man’s sock and underwear drawer, and would especially not pull the drawer out to see if anything was taped behind it.

Flipping it over in his hands, he studied it. It looked the same, untampered with. He’d bought a special stamp to seal it with and that was unbroken. The edges weren’t tampered with. The handwriting was his. He tapped it against his fingertips as he carried it downstairs and dropped it on the table in front of Abby.

“Oh no,” she said as she pushed the envelope back across the table to Gibbs. “You open it. If I open it, you’ll accuse me of swapping out the letter with sleight of hand.”

“No, I won’t. Because whatever she wrote is going to be some vague mishmash like a fortune cookie. It will be something that anyone could twist to say it applied to anyone else.”

“You’re going to see that she is not a fake. I’m sure of it. Open it already and we’ll all find out together.” It sounded like a dare.

Gibbs just glared at her.

Unwilling to wait for a victor in the battle of wills between Abby and Gibbs, Tony reached for the envelope and slit it open with his steak knife. “You guys would have argued all night,” he explained when he caught them staring at him. “I’ll read the letter, we’ll all have a laugh and that will be the end of it.”

“Get ready to be amazed,” said Abby.

Tony cleared his throat, then read from the letter: “ _‘Happiness may not always be in your cards, but it is your time. The card is in your hand. Your chance is here for happiness. Your prince will suit you to a T, Mr. Gibbs. I hope you are willing to give him a chance. Do you know what I’m thinking now? Claire ’_.”

“Oh my god!” Abby exclaimed.

Gibbs was still holding Tony’s business card, but dropped it onto the table like it had suddenly burned his hand. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Tony’s card was in your hand, Gibbs. Right there. You can’t deny it and there is no way we could have set that up. Your prince is Tony. It couldn’t be any clearer.”

“How do you know it doesn’t mean the cat?”

“Because it has his initial. When she wrote that your prince will suit you to a T, that is Tony’s initial. T is for Tony.”

“ _To a T_ is a common saying.”

“Here, Gibbs. What about this,” she said as she pointed to a line. “She hopes you will give _him_ a chance. She knew it was a guy who would come into your life and make you happy.”

“Figure of speech.”

“And at the end where she asks if you can tell what she’s thinking now, I think she knows no matter how much proof you have, you’re not going to believe. But that’s fine because the whole thing was just to find you a way to be happy. And you are.”

“I was happy six months ago,” Gibbs argued.

“But you’re happier now. You can’t deny that.”

“I was going through a divorce six months ago. Of course I’m happier now.” 

“You’re happier having Tony here.”

“He’s okay.”

“Oh good,” said Tony. “I was shooting for mediocre.” 

“No, you’re fine,” said Gibbs.

“Sounds like Claire nailed it. Suck it up and admit that she got it right.”

“How the hell could she possible know I’d have a card in my hand when Tony read the letter?”

Tony and Abby chimed in together, “Because she’s psychic.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes. Prince jumped up in his lap and purred, while head-butting Gibbs’ chin.

After Gibbs cleared the table, they all moved into the living room. Gibbs and Tony shared the couch while Abby sat in the chair. Prince meandered over and settled with his head against Gibbs’ leg. Tony leaned over so his head was against Gibbs’ shoulder.

Picking up the remote, Tony flipped through the stations. “I can’t believe it. It’s _The Three Amigos_. We are so watching this.”

“This is all I wanted,” said Abby. “To see you honestly happy.”

“I am happy,” said Gibbs.

“Good because I didn’t pay Claire to read your palm. I paid her to create a love potion. And if that wasn’t enough, how big of a sign do you need? The cat that walks into your life has a name tag that says, _The Gypsy Prince_? No one could have set that up. The stars have aligned in your favor.”

Gibbs shook his head and sighed. “I am happy. I won’t deny that. But really, a psychic? She was just lucky. It was all a lucky guess.”

Prince looked over to Abby and winked at her as he purred away. She smiled and turned back to the movie. All that mattered was that Gibbs was happy.

 

12/30/2017  
© 2017 by Jacie


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